Dawn and Dusk
by BettyBarchetta
Summary: It is five years since Edward left Bella. She is now a successful photographer who should invest in a good telephoto lens and should really lay off the coffee! One-shot. PLEASE review, even if you don't like it....i really like reviews xxxx


**It is five years since Edward left Bella. After completing high school, she trained as a photographer and now travels the world working freelance.**

Dawn and dusk are my favourite times of day to take photographs. The light is soft and beautiful, and the most amazing colours fill the sky at sunrise and sunset. The world is so peaceful, especially at dawn, before people have started to fill the streets with their noise and bustle. So it was that I found myself on a fresh summer morning in Paris, standing in front of Sacre Coeur with my camera. I had photographed this amazing structure many times, but something always drew me back here whenever I was in Paris, begging me to take more pictures. I loved the smooth white beauty of its stone; it stood proudly at the top of Montmartre looking invincible and eternal, as though standing guard protectively over the city below. It was probably a romantic notion but, hey that is what Paris is all about. I set up my tripod and clicked away for almost an hour before the city started to come to life and tourists arrived to spoil my shots. I was confident that I had achieved some good images, so I packed up my kit and made my way to the Louvre where I had been commissioned to do some work. The day passed quickly as it always did when I was working, filling card after card with hundreds of images.

When I got back to my hotel, I plugged in my laptop and slotted in the first memory card to download the images. While that was running, I jumped in the shower. Emerging five minutes later, I popped in the next card and grabbed the room service menu. I ordered a mushroom omelette and a large salad, and a large pot of coffee. Then I threw on some comfy clothes and started detangling my hair, stopping every few minutes to swap over the memory card in my laptop. Finally all of the images were downloaded and I sat down at the desk to look at my day's work.

Starting with the Louvre photos, I quickly sorted them into folders, deleting unusable ones and tagging my favourites. My client would be happy with the results....I had worked for him a few times now and knew exactly what he was looking for. A knock on the door announced the arrival of my dinner. Not a moment too soon as my stomach grumbled to remind me that I hadn't eaten since breakfast.

I made myself comfortable on the bed with my computer on my lap and pulled up the Sacre Coeur photos, scrolling through them as I ate. And there it was....the perfect image. The white of the basilica set off magnificently by the pink and lilac hues of the sunrise. Not a soul was in sight....it was the image I had been waiting for. Oh, but just a minute, there _was_ someone there, standing beneath one of the arches of the portico. Damn. Never mind....a little editing would take care of that. I put down my plate and opened up the image in Photoshop.

I had selected the right tool and zoomed in on the offending pixels, ready to annihilate them. Then I stopped in my tracks. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. My heart had jumped up into my throat and my hands were shaking. There was no mistaking the person who stood beneath the statue of Joan of Arc. His skin was almost as white as the basilica itself. His hair bronze and dishevelled. I ran my finger over the spot of screen that he occupied. Oh my god, I had found him. After five long years of not knowing where he was, I had found him. Quickly I cropped the image tight around him and saved it, irrationally thinking that he might disappear otherwise. What was he doing here? Did he live in Paris now? What was he doing at Sacre Coeur? He seemed to be examining the stone, stroking it reverently, lost in thought. Maybe he was just being a tourist....what better time for a vampire to go sightseeing than at dawn when nobody else is around?

But what if it was more than coincidence that he was there at the same time as me? Of course he must have known I was there....he could smell me anywhere! Quickly I started scanning through the other photographs I had taken today. Sure enough, there he was time and time again, always in the shadows or amongst the crowds of people at the Louvre, and always far enough away that he wouldn't be spotted without serious enlargement. In some of the images, he was looking directly at the camera; the first time I zoomed in on one of these I dropped the mouse in shock as his heavenly eyes gazed at me. My curiosity was roused now. How long had he been following me? I began to look back at my catalogue of work and was astounded to see Edward in many of the images. How could I not have seen him before? He had been there in Rome, London and Cairo, and in Mexico six months ago. I sat back and considered the implications of my discovery. He could only be motivated by positive feelings for me....nobody spends their time following someone they don't care for. And I could only assume that he wanted to be seen. Otherwise he would stay out of sight behind the camera.

I opened the French doors and walked out onto the balcony, breathing in the warm night air. Smiling to myself, I wondered where he was at this moment. Was he watching me as I stood there? Had he checked in to the same hotel as I had? I doubted that the front desk would furnish me with such information. He would most likely use a false name anyway.

If he was close by, he would be able to hear my voice. I contemplated the best way to use that to my advantage. I didn't want to give away too much, getting into a one-way conversation with him that would only leave me more frustrated. So how could I be sure of a response? I could do something dramatic like pretend to leap from the balcony. However, knowing my luck I would trip and fall for real. And the potential for drawing unwanted attention to myself was huge. I wasn't sure that appearing on the national news threatening to commit suicide and getting carted off for psychiatric evaluation would be a valuable experience for me.

So, how could I make him think I was in danger without actually putting myself there??? Then it came to me.....it was obvious....._cry wolf_!! So to speak. I had to fight the urge to start giggling. If I was going to be convincing I needed to compose myself. I sat cross-legged on the bed and took some deep breaths. _OK, here goes nothing...._.

"_EDWARD!!!! Help me!!!!! Please Edward!!!" _I screamed at the top of my voice.

I closed my eyes momentarily and when I opened them....he was there before me, poised to attack, concern etched across his features.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking around my hotel room in confusion. "I don't understand."

I couldn't believe my childish ruse had actually worked. I stared at him in astonishment, my mouth hanging open unattractively.

"You are really here." I said, stating the obvious. And then five year's worth of anger bubbled up from nowhere. The man who had ruined my life was standing not ten feet from me as though this was all perfectly normal behaviour. "You son of a bitch!!" I grabbed the heaviest thing to hand, which happened to be the full coffee pot, and launched myself at him, smashing it into the side of his head with all of the force I could muster. The look of surprise on his face was probably only matched by the surprise on my own as I came to my senses and realised what I had just done. The situation was so farcical that the giggling I had managed to suppress earlier erupted. Edward raised one eyebrow at me.

"So, Bella, am I to assume that you called for my help because you have lost your mind?" he enquired seriously, bringing on another fit of hysterics from me.

"Sorry", I sniggered from behind my hand. "Just give me a moment."

Edward lowered himself onto the sofa examining the coffee stains on his shirt in disapproval. Once I had regained my self-control I sat down next to him and gently placed my hand against his cool cheek. His eyes were full of guilt when he lifted them to meet mine but he mirrored my gesture, running his fingers from my temple to my mouth. There was a knock at the door.

"Is everything alright, Miss Swan?" a French voice asked. I stood up and went to the door, opening it just enough to show my face.

"Everything is fine, thank you. Sorry if I disturbed anyone....I had a nightmare, but it's over now." I replied, and closed the door.


End file.
